The well contented called me a fool,
A dreamer and a drunk, I fled their
Contempt and now I can’t return.

Unless in triumph. I must prove them
Wrong, yet I’m a dreamer and, at times,
A drunken buffoon.

I’ve a freedom they resent, I dare to
Go where they dread to walk and I can
Fly on wings of thoughts.

Yet, I’m a victim of their scorn and feel
I must succeed, but how? Because I’m
A dreamer and, at times, a fool.